In-Between Reality
by QTCal
Summary: What is a dream if not memories? Things that a person sees, experiences, or remembers throughout the day or even throughout the years can be conjured in the middle of the night as a dream... or even a nightmare. And often, reality and dreams collide and no one can tell the difference. Which is it for Masamune? (One-Shot)


**A/N: This is something I've wanted to write out for a while now. I always like adding a little bit of "fate" or "dreams" or something related to fantasy that introduces something real. This can be taken as a Masamune x OC (be it Megohime or Aiko or whoever) or a Masamune x Reader. Either way, it's just a little thing I wanted to post. I hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sengoku Basara or any of its characters.**

* * *

It was, god forbid, summer.

Masamune wiped his wet brow with a towel once again as he fanned himself within the shaded confines of the open hallway. The inside of his room was no better than the outside, though he desperately hoped there would be a least a little bit of wind. To no luck, the small wind chime hanging to the wooden ceiling was moving as fast as he was right now (which was, in case you didn't notice, not moving at all). Masamune abandoned his work on the table and moved at least five rooms away to escape from Kojuuro, but the heat made even sitting unbearable. The cicadas flying around sounded far away, but it was consistent, determined to remind the temperamental war lord that it was summer, s_ummer, summer, summer, summer..._

And not winter.

He swore it was winter not long ago, but...

Time flew, didn't it?

Groaning loudly, Masamune sprawled onto his back and ceased his fanning, not that it helped him cool down anyways. Footsteps approached him, and he grimaced, waiting for the lecture that never came.

"Lord Masamune," a light voice asked in amusement, "what are you doing?"

Masamune looked up with his good eye to see her standing in the thinnest, modest feminine outfit she could find, which was in fact not very thin, and very, very modest.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

Instead of replying to his question, she continued to smile at Masamune's obvious discomfort and said, "You're avoiding Kojuuro, huh."

Masamune could do nothing but give her the fan as she went around him and sat on his left, staring at the blurry waves that the heat made in the garden. Sighing as he stared up at the immobile girl next to him (aside from the fan that was gently blowing her hair), he quickly got up and took the fan away from her, irritated that the breeze was getting slower and slower. The girl smiled sheepishly, but gladly relinquished the fan to her lord who began to fan both of them with wide and fast strokes.

"So," the One Eyed Dragon started breathlessly, "how was your day so far?"

At the question, the young lady perked up and answered with a cheerful and detailed telling of her day where she woke up at dawn, helped Kojuurou in the garden, trained with the men, and visited the village, all the while saying all the mishaps that happened along the way. While she spoke, Masamune would often nod accordingly, but all he could do was stare dazily at her, his vision becoming slightly foggy as if he were beginning to fall asleep.

Her lively voice, her joyous laughter began to overcome the sound of the cicadas, and he could hear the soothing sound of wind-chimes... but with no wind, where was it coming from? He wondered, and glanced over in amusement at her as she reached a stop to her story with an excited smile.

"And now," she added with a faux-accusatory side-glance, "I'll have to help you with your paperwork too."

Giving her a grin, Masamune reached out to ruffle her hair despite knowing she hated him doing so. "Well, you have to, don't you?" He said the statement cheekily and with an air of haughtiness. He took the fan out of reach when he saw her make a grab for it after she fixed her long and silky hair that he'd loved to brush his finger through.

"You're my-"

At that moment, Masamune abruptly cut himself off, confused beyond his reason. She was... Who was...?

Looking at the woman next to him, he felt a bubble of panic he never expected to have ever since conquered Oshuu. He was confused; he was asking questions that he didn't know the answer to, and in that moment of time, that scared him more than anything.

_Who was she?_

_Who was this woman who could talk freely with him, sit casually next to him, be so loved by him-?_

He didn't know her.

_Why was she here?_

The girl furrowed her brows and pursed her lips slightly as she approached Masamune slowly, concern laced in her kind words, "Lord Masamune, are you alright?"

Masamune didn't answer, couldn't answer, because somehow a lump found itself in his throat and refused to let him ask the question that caused this reaction in the first place. He didn't remember her in his childhood. He didn't remember seeing her at all. If he did, he would know her insecurities, the way she obsessed over little things, her flaws, but also the great and beautiful aspects of her. He would recognize the flicker of fear in her brown doe-eyes, the small hands that reached out for him, and the soft voice that called for his name. This unfamiliar warmth with a face that should have been familiar instead gave him the feeling of immense panic.

Suddenly, before he realized it, her hands were cupping his face, and she stared at him steadily as she spoke, "Lord Masamune, I'm your-"

"No-!"

Masamune pushed her hands away, fearing her loving touches, her kind words, and he hated himself when he saw the pained expression as she pulled back. He clenched his one eye shut, his other one, which had not felt a thing in years, began to burn, no, /sear/. He let out a raspy breath as he heard the shattering of a sake cup, and he knew, if he looked up, that he would see his mother with a sleeve covering her nose as if she smelled something foul, looking down at him in disgust.

_**"Serves you right, you monster,**" she would spit out. "**Poison for a poisonous child; it's what you deserve."**_

And Masamune wouldn't be able to handle experiencing again: the pain, _the helplessness_...

So he woke up.

The numerous futons on him was a heavy weight; the cold wintry air blew harshly on the doors of his room, and he remembered that it was winter.

Not summer.

Masamune blinked blearily before the break of dawn with a sweaty forehead and a rapid heart beat, trying to forget the painful memory of his mother and the impossible reality of a lover like the one inside his dream.

Dreams.

Date Masamune, Number One of Oshuu, feared to dream again.


End file.
